


Feathers and Feelings

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Feathers Series [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 23:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Part Two after Feathers and Frostbite





	Feathers and Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> For my 5000 Follower Celebration on Tumblr

 

* * *

It took nearly five weeks to recover after your near-death experience in Russia. When you arrived with Clint, Nat, and Steve at the extraction point, the first thing that happened was you passed out. Full faceplant, right on top of Natasha.

You woke once on the jet. A barrage of people working over and around you with Clint holding your hand and threatening to kill you if you died. That seemed harsh, and you tried to tell him so, but you'd passed out a second time.

Two days later you woke to find him sitting beside your hospital bed looking half dead himself, unshaven and scruffy, still wearing the same clothes from the mission.

Apparently, when all hell had broken loose, and he’d saved your life by catching you with that arrow, he’d also fractured your neck. It was a small break, but between running, climbing, fighting, and well, the other f-ing, the fracture had expanded enough to put pressure on your nerves. Swelling had set in and down you went.

Clint had been beside himself with worry, but when you finally woke up for good and could move all your fingers and toes, he’d laid his head on your hip and cried with relief. Right there in front of the doc, the team, and everyone. Bawled like a baby.

Now, five weeks later, he was driving you a little nutty. Attentive and sweet, he was also suffocating you because he was doing everything for you except going to the bathroom, which you were pretty sure he would also have done if he'd been able to figure out how.

Natasha and Wanda had come to your rescue, kicking him from your room when the doc had come to do her final evaluation and exam. She'd pronounced you healed, but you were to remain off active duty for another month to be safe. When you'd casually asked about “other" activities, Helen had snickered but nodded, though she advised you not to do anything acrobatic, like stand on your head.

Natasha snorted out a laugh. “That's more Clint’s department anyway. Damn that man is bendy.”

His acrobatic skills were legendary and made your mouth water a little just thinking about it. You'd caught him stretching one morning, and quite honestly, wouldn't mind waking up to such a view every day.

“This is good,” Wanda smiled. “Clint is so tightly strung; it will be good to see him relaxed again.”

“Will you two please stop discussing my sex life like it's some dinner party everyone is invited to?”

“Why?” Nat smirked. “You made me relate every sinful detail of Steve and his, mmm, impressive stamina. We can’t talk about you and Clint?”

The things Nat and Steve had done in that cave. No wonder the man blushed every time Natasha smiled at him. He blushed, but when he smiled back, Steve appeared especially smug, and rightly so.

But then Clint also had skills and talents you were only beginning to discover. Ones you wanted to continue discovering, and now that you had a clean bill of health from Helen, it was time to… repay the debt so to speak.

“Ladies,” you smirked wickedly at Nat and Wanda. “I need to go shopping.”

“Regular shopping or skanky shopping?” Nat asked.

“Both,” you snickered.

***

Clint glared at his phone for the third time. “I don’t know why she had to go shopping with Nat and Wanda. I mean, I could stand to go shopping.”

“Dude. You’re whipped,” Sam snickered.

“I am not!” Clint protested.

“Was it really that incredible? One time, nearly frozen to death, with her neck broken was so good, you can’t let her out of your sight until you get another taste?”

“Lang,” Clint snarled. “I will shoot you.”

“You’d have to catch me first,” the Ant-Man smirked.

Clint snatched a pen off the side table and launched it across the room. It smacked Scott directly in the forehead, exploded nicely, and covered him in ink. “Next time I’ll use an arrow and put it somewhere a hell of a lot more important than your forehead. Don’t talk about my girl like that.”

“Dammit, Barton! This was my favourite shirt!” Scott snapped as he stood and stormed from the room.

Steve snickered and raised his glass Clint’s way. “Nice shot.”

“They always are,” Clint smirked.

“Nat sent me a text,” Steve grinned smugly. “Said you’d better be planning on going somewhere nice tonight. Your girl got the all clear from Helen.”

“Yeah?” Clint perked up.

Steve nodded. “Though she’s benched for a minimum four weeks yet. If it were me, I’d be getting my ass cleaned up,” he said, sipping his drink. “And maybe figuring out where I'm taking my girl for her first night of freedom.”

“It would have been nice if said girl had bothered to tell me we were going out,” Clint muttered as he stood and left the room. His phone pinged a moment later making him smile when the text was from Y/N.

_Baby, you ready for a night out?_

His reply was probably a little too eager. _Damn ready!_

_Then you’d best be downstairs at seven sharp! I've got plans_.

He chuckled and kicked his heels up once before jogging down the hall. He would be there, and he would be ready.

***

You gave your dress a little tug to make sure it hadn’t ridden up after hugging Nat and Wanda. They headed into the elevator with your other bags, and the clothes you’d been wearing earlier as the second elevator dinged and Clint strolled out.

He looked good. Hair perfectly dishevelled, dress slacks on, and a button up which complimented his eyes. A dark brown leather jacket completed the look, and you hummed in appreciation.

“Looking good, Barton.”

His eyes bugged out, and his mouth dropped open when he caught sight of you. “Holy shit!”

His reaction made you chuckle. “That good, huh?” you asked as you dragged your hand down the side of your navy dress. It fit like a glove, made both your ass and your breasts look amazing, and it was short enough to show off your legs made longer by your killer shoes. A red clutch complimented the deep burgundy of your nails, both finger and toes painted to match.

The girls had insisted on a trip to the spa, a drop of Tony’s name had gotten you in the door, and you’d been primped and plucked and pampered to the nines. Your hair and makeup had never looked so perfect.

“Holy shit,” he said a second time, striding forward to take you by the waist and look you over. “How the hell am I supposed to make it through dinner with you sitting across from me looking like this?”

“I dunno, Clint. Why don’t we go to dinner and figure it out.” You threw him a wink, pulled away, and held out your hand. “Unless that old man heart of yours can’t handle me?”

“Just who hauled who’s ass through the wilds of Russia? I think it’s me you’d best be keeping up with, little girl.”

You laughed and dragged him out the door to the waiting car. The driver already knew where to go, so you just climbed in, gave the man a wink, and turned to snuggle into Clint as the partition between the front and the back of the limo went up.

“What did you bribe Stark with to get this thing, or did you just steal his limo? And where are we going?” Clint asked, frowning a little.

The frown turned into a curious smile when you slid your knee over his thigh. “Well…” you murmured as you played with the buttons on his shirt. “You remember in Russia what you said to me?”

“I said a lot in Russia,” he smirked, sliding his hand up your thigh.

“This was pretty specific, Barton. Think carefully now. Wasn’t there something you promised me?” you asked, trailing your fingers down his chest to land on his belt.

“It’s starting to come back to me,” he said and dipped his head, his lips seeking yours.

You pulled back before he could connect. “I always fulfill my promises, Hawkeye,” you whispered as you cupped him through his pants and gently sucked his lower lip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he wheezed, growing thick beneath your palm.

Gently pulling down his zipper, you made swift work freeing him from his pants. “I never did get a good look in Russia you know.”

“Then maybe you should take one now,” he said, pupils blown wide with lust.

A smirk curled your lips even as you shimmed off the seat to kneel on the floor between his feet. “Mm,” you hummed while continuing to stroke and fondle his cock. “He’s so pretty,” you purred, running your thumb over the top where the clear bead had gathered before bringing the droplet to your mouth and licking it off your thumb. “And tasty. Someone likes his pineapple,” you teased.

“Fuck me,” he wheezed a second time and slouched, letting his legs spread wide and his head fall back to the seat, though his eyes stayed on you. “Babe, you’re killing me.”

You chuckled because you knew it. He’d been too afraid of the break in your neck to do more than cuddle these last five weeks, and after two really, really impressive rounds of seriously good sex in the cabin, you were both feeling a little restless.

“I got you, Legolas,” you teased and closed your lips around his nicely formed cock.

He really would give the super soldiers a run for their money in this department. So much so he made your jaw ache when you had to stretch to fit him in. But damn if he didn’t taste good. A little sweet, a little salty, and somehow a little spicy as if his smartass nature came through even here.

“Fuck…” he moaned, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. “Darlin’, normally I’d so have my hands in your hair right now, but I figure you’d be pretty pissed-” he gasped when your throat closed around him, “pissed if I mess your hair before dinner!”

You laughed, the vibration running through his cock as you deepthroated him a second time.

“God you’re good at that!” he said, his voice a much higher pitch than usual.

This time you couldn’t help but pull away so you could laugh. “Do you always talk this much when a girl gives you head?”

“It’s been so long I don’t remember,” he panted then blushed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to that.”

“Clint, baby,” you simpered and stroked your hands up and down his thighs. “Relax. I got you. I’m gonna suck you off before we get out of this car, but if you don’t shut up our driver may get an eyeful if he gets us to dinner before I get done.” You fluttered your lashes and smiled sweetly, fighting laughter again when he nodded vigorously.

Eyeing him for a minute longer, you resumed your previous action by running your tongue around his fat crown and sucking him deep with a sinfully wet slurp.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered.

He was so damn cute.

Hard and throbbing already, it took only a half dozen more strokes of lips and tongue to have him coming with a long string of explicits down your throat.

You hummed, the sound one of pride. He was limp and panting and had obviously enjoyed himself. But when he made to pull away, his length softening on your tongue, you gave him one last slow, sinful suck and cleaned him up before allowing him freedom and tucking him back behind his underwear.

“Don’t forget to do up your fly, Barton,” you quipped as you wiped your lips on a tissue and pulled your lipstick from your clutch. You’d pretty much painted his dick pink with what had been there before.

“I think my heart fell out of the car three blocks back,” he sighed happily. “That was the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

Again you turned into his body and slid your knee over his thigh when the car began to slow to a stop. “And we’re just getting started,” you murmured, drawing his hand to the inside of your thigh.

“Yeah?” he smiled. “What else you got in store for me, babe?”

His fingers inched higher, and your smile grew more devious when you leaned toward his ear. “Well, for starters, I left my panties at home,” you whispered just as those hot, slightly rough fingers found that truth all on their own.

“Y/N,” he growled as you pulled away.

The door beside him came open just as he was reaching for you. “Sir, ma’am. We’ve arrived.”

“This isn’t over, woman,” he muttered as he left the car and held his hand out to you.

You were careful to swing both feet out, knees together, having no desire to pull a Brittany and flash everyone your lady bits as you took Clint’s hand.

“Thank you,” you smiled at the driver. “We'll find our own way home.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled kindly and shut the door as you led Clint toward the hotel.

“Y/N? Why are we at the Four Seasons?” he asked, nodding to the doorman when he held the door open.

“Dinner. Drinks. And other things,” you smirked and led him away from the lobby toward the Ty bar.

“Can we skip right to other things?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you back against him. “You know, promises need to be kept and all that,” he smiled against your throat when he kissed you beneath the ear.

“I think we could both use a drink first, don’t you?” you asked, even as your body warmed.

“Maybe one. To show off my hot date.”

“Hot date?” you chuckled.

“Darlin, you’re smoking hot in this dress. I would do backflips for this dress.”

You laughed and perched on a stool at the bar. Clint dragged the one beside it much closer so when he sat on his, you were practically between his legs. Then his hand snuck to your thigh a second time when the bartender came over to take your order.

“Whisky, neat,” Clint said, never taking his eyes off you.

“Something from the bespoke menu,” you murmured. “Surprise me.”

“Seems like you’ve been here before,” Clint said when the bartender walked away.

“Well, us ladies like a swanky lunch date once in a while.”

His hand crept higher on your thigh. “Yeah? You ever check out the rooms in this place?”

“Maybe,” you smiled and leaned toward him. “Treat me right, and you may get to see the view.”

“Babe, you let me see the view, and I will treat you so, so good.” He smiled, and it was all seduction, his eyes full of desire.

“You’ve got to buy a girl at least one drink first,” you pouted.

His fingers flexed on your thigh. “I think I can wait that long. I’ve waited five weeks already.”

You cupped his face between your hands and lightly kissed his lips. “You’ve been amazing these last weeks.”

“Even when I was driving you crazy?”

The boyish grin made you giggle. “Even then. But seriously, Clint. Thank you.”

He sighed a little and leaned his forehead against yours. “Still feel bad for breaking it in the first place.”

“Shut it, Barton,” you huffed. “You saved my life four times. Four times! Don’t even think about dwelling on one little hiccup. I would be dead any number of ways if it weren’t for you.”

“Alright! Alright!” he smirked a little. “I get it. I’m amazing.”

You wrapped your hand around his jacket collar and tugged him closer to whisper in his ear, “Both in the field, and the bedroom.”

“Dammit,” he grumbled. “How long’s it take to get a drink around here?”

The drinks came in due time, but you were in no rush. Anticipation was part of the game. You wanted him riled up, desperate, hungry for it like you’d both been in Russia. But every time he looked at you with those hawk eyes you felt the hunger build inside you, too. You made small talk and teased each other. His hand never strayed from your thigh, only higher up it. Your foot found its way beneath his pant leg to rub his ankle.

When you’d licked the last bit of sugar from the rim of your glass, Clint had his wallet out and slipped a fifty under his.

“Clint, that’s way too much,” you said, shaking your head.

“Considering he didn’t come back to ask if we wanted another round, he deserves every dollar of that tip,” he said as he stepped from his stool to press you into the back of yours and kiss you breathless.

It was the same kiss as Russia. Desperate and full of passion, as if nothing and no one else mattered but getting his lips on yours, and his tongue in your mouth.

When he finally pulled away, he asked, “What room?”

Feeling hot all over you licked your lips and tasted him on them. “Eleven… eleven,” you somehow managed to get out.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and gently kissed your cheek, making the words seem even more sinful with the sweet action.

By the time you made it to the elevator you had your bones back and stepped inside to press the button before digging the keycard from your clutch. Clint plucked it from your fingers when the doors slid shut and put it in his pocket, then he trapped you against the wall of the elevator and attacked your mouth.

Lips and teeth and tongue, a soft whimper escaped your throat when you core flooded, and arousal trickled down your thigh. Then his mouth was pressed to your ear. “If there weren’t cameras in here, I would be down on my knees drinking my fill and seeing if I could make you come by the time we reached our floor, but as there are cameras, I’ll settle for a taste.”

His hand was beneath your dress, sliding through your slick and thrusting inside you before you’d fully registered what he was saying. A rough grunt became a keening moan when those callused fingers gave your clit a quick circle and disappeared into his mouth when the elevator dinged.

“Mm, too bad. These things keep getting faster,” he chuckled around his fingers.

Your legs shook with how badly you wanted him. “Barton, you’d best get your ass moving.”

“I seem to recall me saying something similar to you a while ago,” he snickered but stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hallway with you hot on his heels.

At the door, he paused to press you into the frame and kiss you again, making you brain fog with how nice it was to move past small pecks and gentleness to heat and fire. But when the door swung open, you shoved him through it and slammed it behind you.

“Now,” you smiled wickedly and turned the lock, “my favourite Avenger. You’re all mine.”

He glanced over his shoulder and arched a brow. “How did they get here?”

Three fletched arrows without heads rested on the foot of the turned down bed right next to two overnight bags.

“I have wonderfully devious helpers,” you smirked and shoved his jacket off his shoulders. He let it fall where it was want to and reached for the hem of your dress. “Nuh uh,” you shook your head. “My turn, remember.”

He grinned and lifted his hands. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Quickly, you unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it from his pants, then made swift work of those as he toed off his shoes and socks.

“You have a thing for psychedelic shorts, don’t you?” you chuckled and curled your fingers into the waistband of his orange and yellow briefs.

“I like colour. So sue me,” he shrugged.

“I’d rather fuck you,” you smirked and grinned when he twitched in his shorts.

“Please stop teasing him. He’s all worked up again, and it’s up to you to help him out.”

“You keep talking about him like that, big boy’s gonna need a name,” you snickered and caressed his hard length through his shorts.

“Barnabas.”

You looked up. “Bless you.”

“No, silly. That’s his name.”

“No,” you shook your head.

“Why not?” he frowned. “It’s a perfectly acceptable name.”

“I’m not calling your dick Barnabas. And if you’d like to get laid tonight, you won’t call it that either.”

“You keep touching him like that, I’m not gonna have anything to worry about,” he grinned and thrust against your hand.

“Clint!” You slapped his chest but couldn’t stop laughing. “God I love you!”

The two of you froze at the same time, laughter dying as he stared at you, and you tried to figure out how to take it back.

“Really?” he whispered, lifting his hand to your cheek.

You sighed, knowing there was no way to take it back without hurting you both. “Yeah, I do. I wasn’t planning on saying it tonight, and I don’t expect you to say it back.”

He urged you to turn your face to his, but you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Y/N, darlin', I love you too.”

“Really?” you whispered, finally looking up.

“What did you think all my _feelings_ were leading toward? Of course I love you.”

“Clint,” you smiled, tears pricking your eyes.

“Silly girl,” he chuckled.

“I’m still not calling your dick Barnabas.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you. “You can call him whatever you want.”

Curling your arms around his neck, you murmured, “Why don’t I just call him mine?”

“Yeah. Yeah that works,” Clint agreed.

You held on a moment longer, heart full with how special this night had turned out, before letting go to sink to your knees and peel his underwear down his legs. Again you got an up-close view of his exceptional cock when it sprang free.

When you closed your hand around it, he sighed deeply in pleasure and threaded his hands into your hair. You took him in your mouth a second time, but only the tip, teasing and sucking and flicking the sensitive base of his glands before pulling away to his disappointed groan.

You smirked as you returned to your feet, took him by the hand and led him to the bed, a much nicer one than last time, where you quickly dumped the bags on the floor and propped the arrows against the foot.

“What are those for?” Clint asked as you encouraged him up into the center of the bed.

“For you to use on me later,” you grinned and giggled when his eyes lit up.

“That is an excellent idea.”

“I knew you’d appreciate it,” you said. At the foot of the bed, you reached behind you for the zipper on the back of your dress.

He tucked his hands behind his head and wiggled as if getting comfortable. “Oh great! Drinks and a show!”

“Barton, don't make me regret this,” you huffed. “I'm already nervous.”

That had him sitting up with a frown. “Why? I've already seen every inch of you.”

“I know, but circumstances were different with the adrenaline and the near-death experience. This is just… us.”

He scooched forward, an amusing action to witness a naked man perform, to sit on the end of the bed and wrap his arm around your legs. “Y/N, that's just it. It is us. I love you. And honestly, though I'm happy we got together in Russia, this here and now, this is how I wish it would have happened. Just you and me. Drinks. Possibly dinner. A stellar bit of seduction, and you and I naked together in a very nice bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, darlin'. Now, can I see what we're working with here? Cause it's been so long, I've forgotten how sexy you are. I keep having flashbacks of satin and lace, maroon underwear. Can't tell if it was a dream or reality...”

You shoved him to his back while laughing at his antics, only to have him bounce back up again. He was just the best guy. “Okay, Katniss. You want to see something special? How about this?”

Pulling the dress forward so it could slip off your arms, you let it fall to pool on the floor around your shoes, revealing the burgundy lace bustier with its sheer cups and attached garter belt holding up the lace tops of your stockings.

His mouth dropped open. “My heart!” he gasped dramatically and went over backward on the bed.

“Cut it out!” you snickered and slapped his thigh.

“I can’t. You've killed me with your hotness. I daren't look at you.”

“Well, then you definitely can't touch,” you snickered and walked over to the side table where two sets of shiny handcuffs waited. Thank you, Natasha. “Scoot up, dead boy. I'm having my way with you tonight either way.”

“Necrophilia?” he gasped as he pushed up toward the headboard. “How kinky.”

He could always make you laugh, even now with hot desire burning your veins, you had to stop to chuckle before handcuffing him to the bed.

“This all seems oddly familiar,” he quipped, as you climbed on the bed and straddled him to close the other handcuff.

“That was a bow,” you snickered, “and I do believe you were on top.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, licking his lips. “Okay, now I'm nervous.”

You smiled down at him as the other cuff clicked closed. “You should be.”

“Oh, crap,” he said, but his cock jerked hard against your thigh.

“I think the correct response should be, “Yes, ma’am,'” you chuckled, running your hands over his chest.

“Yes, ma'am,” he squeaked adorably.

It made you grin and lean over to lightly brush your mouth over his. “Clint, baby. You got a little sub kink in there I don't know about? You gonna get all excited if I call you a good boy?” you asked, teasingly biting his lip.

“Uh… maybe?” he whined when you pulled away.

“This just got so much more fun,” you hummed, smiling wickedly as you sat up and shimmied backward until the tip of his enthusiastic cock just touched the wetness between your thighs.

“Oh, God!” He threw his head back into the pillows, throat straining and arms flexing against the handcuffs.

“Clint,” you murmured, caressing his chest. “Don't hurt yourself.”

“I won’t if you stop tormenting me with your sexy self!” he whined and bucked his torso up, shifting you so your wet lips slipped further along his cock.

The head of his cock connected with your clit and sent a gasp ripping from your lungs. “You little shit!”

He jerked against the handcuffs a second time. “Scold later. Sex now!” he whined.

You could feel him throb against your core and slapped your hands to his chest to keep him from moving. “Don't make me punish you, Barton.”

He quivered, actively shivered all over. “Yes, ma'am.”

It made you grin this new side of him. “You’re a good boy, Clint,” you said quietly and dragged your nails down his chest with just enough pressure to leave thin read lines. His pupils blew wide, and a deep flush suffused his cheeks. “Good boys get rewarded.” Slowly you began to roll your hips, slicking your wetness up and down his shaft.

“I’m,” he gasped in a breath of air, “a very good boy.”

You chuckled and leaned over to let your lips hover an inch above his. “Don’t I know it.”

He fluttered his lashes coyly, staring at you with those hawk eyes. “Kisses?”

“Yeah, baby. You can have kisses,” you smiled, placing light ones on the corners of his lips, his cupid’s bow, his nose, and his chin only for his lower lip to slip into a pout. “Not the kind of kisses you were thinking of?”

He shook his head, just so damn cute.

“You want real kisses?” you teased, lightly nipping his pouting lip.

“Babe, stop killing me,” he moaned.

“But you beg so nicely, Barton,” you chuckled and brushed your lips over his. When he opened his mouth to voice another protest, you sealed your lips to his and slipped your tongue in his mouth. Stroking the twisting muscle, you rocked your hips down, drawing soft moans from his throat.

Eventually, he broke free to gasp for air and jerk against the handcuffs again. “Let me out.”

“And why would I do that?” you teased, sitting back to trace your nails down his chest a second time while keeping your hips going, rubbing your sensitive clit on his ridge. Fresh wetness soaked his cock with every slick drag.

“This is torture! I've waited five weeks to touch you, and now you're teasing me senseless!”

“I did say I'd make it up to you,” you grinned just a little evilly as you skimmed your nails up the inside of your thighs, up your glistening mound of wet curls, straight up your abdomen to cup your breasts through the sheer fabric.

“Babe, please!” he begged, nearly frantic, his eyes following your fingers.

“I do like listening to you beg,” you smirked, using his abdomen to steady yourself as you pushed to your feet to stand over him.

Legs spread, you knew he was getting quite the view when his cock twitched and jumped. His eyes followed your fingers to the snaps on your garters as you released your stockings but darted up as soon as you began unhooking the front closures of the corset.

“I made sure and got on birth control, that good stuff of Helen's, shortly after we came back,” you said, smiling when Clint licked his lips and swallowed hard.

Neither of you had been prepared for sexy fun times in the Russian forest, and Clint had finished in his fist both times, leaving you thankful, but also a little bereft. You wanted to know what it was like when he gave himself over to passion and fell with you.

“So I packed condoms in my coat, wallet, and pants for nothing?” he quipped.

“Yup. All that rubber and no reason to use it. Shame,” you teased and unhooked the last clasp before drawing the corset away. Holding it out, you let it fall to the floor with a thud.

“Hot damn…” he murmured. “You're so fucking sexy, Y/N.”

“You're not half bad yourself, Barton,” you said, letting your gaze drift over his thick muscles, sleek abs, and well-defined chest before landing on his arms. He had the sexiest damn arms of anyone on the team. Not too big or too small, but perfect for his size. Perfect when they held you with such care.

“C’mere and let me out of these. I’ll show you just how sexy,” he smiled and waggled his brows.

You shook your head, returning to your knees. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m done paying you back yet,” you teased, leaning forward to lightly lick and suck his nipple before switching to the opposite.

“Woman, you need to listen to me when I tell you stuff. I thought we established that in Russia?” he grumbled.

Your nipples peaked into hard points when they brushed over his body. “Only when it’s necessary.”

“Now!” he huffed. “Now is necessary!”

A laugh burst from you, and you cupped his face to lay a smacking kiss to his lips. “Patience, Hawkeye. This time, I’ve got you,” you promised.

Sitting back, you smiled at his dubious look, especially when you shift from straddling his hips to kneeling beside him, but you watched in amusement as his eyes went wide in understanding when you moved to straddle him a second time facing his feet.

“Babe…” he whimpered.

“Did you think I’d forget?” you smiled over his shoulder.

“I… I…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wasn’t sure.”

“Barton, if you tell me the position you most want to try is reverse cowgirl because you want to watch my ass while I ride you, I assure you, I’m gonna remember,” you laughed, lining him up with your wet core and sinking down in one smooth glide.

You’d forgotten how good he felt. The full stretch, the way he made you burn a little with that first thrust. How hot he felt. How right you felt with him buried to the hilt. “Oh, god,” fell from your lips as you braced on his thighs.

“There you go, forgetting my name again,” he panted, still a smartass.

“Barton shut the fuck up,” you moaned as you began to ride.

He grunted when you lifted up and lowered down hard, stealing whatever quippy comeback he was going to make along with the breath from his lungs. His thick ridge caught on your walls, seeming to stroke every nerve ending into pleasurable bliss when you rose and fell over him. A slight roll of the hips had him dragging over your sweet spot with a whimper.

You leaned back and braced yourself on his ribs so you could grind down on him, feel him tap against your cervix with every upward thrust of his hips. “Fuck! Clint!”

“Shit, yes!” he growled.

A hard thrust had you seeing stars, but it was his hands closing over your chest which startled you. Then he planted his feet and began to thrust with earnest, pounding into your tightening core when all you could do was brace above him, moan and scream and cry when he plucked and pulled your nipples.

Suddenly, he was pushing against your shoulders, forcing you to sit up and ride. His hand closed around your hips, and those strong arms were lifting and lowering you on his cock, driving you wild with the hard and fast fucking.

“I didn’t say I wanted to watch your ass,” he muttered. “I said I wanted to grab it.”

On the next lift of your hips, his big hands closed on the globes of your ass and squeezed, using the tight handfuls to raise and lower you over his incredibly hard cock.

Your blood pounded in your ears, hammered between your thighs. It pulsed outward to every limb in time with the seemingly endless stamina of the man making you see stars until finally, he hit the sweet spot inside you he’d found in Russia, and your world exploded in a shatter of white like the implosion of a supernova.

A scream tore from your throat, a bellow echoed behind you, and after five long weeks, you felt the heat of Clint’s release mix with yours when your tightly clenching walls milked him dry.

Somehow he managed to find a little energy to draw you back toward him and down to his side where you lay panting, staring up at the ceiling, before muttering, “Holy fuck.”

He chuckled and curled around you, body warm and comforting. “My sentiments exactly.”

“I mean, yeah. I thought Russia might have had something to do with the adrenalin and all, but shit. You’re amazing,” you smiled at him. “How’d you get out of the handcuffs?”

He snorted his contempt for your question. “What kind of carney would I have been if _handcuffs_ were an effective form of restraint?”

You laughed and rolled to face him, twining your legs together. “I’ll remember that for next time.” Cupping his cheek, you leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I love you, Clint.”

“I love you, babe,” he said, turning your soft kiss into something a lot more heated. “How’s about we order some room service and spend the rest of the night right here?”

“Just you and me and Barnabas?” you snickered.

He laughed and tugged you closer. “Along with a few feathers and a whole lot of feelings. After all, I think it’s my turn to give as good as I got.”

Kissing him again, you couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like a perfect plan to me.”

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
